


Forget me nots

by MJRoX



Series: Flowers [2]
Category: Hamilton - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 21:33:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14293905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MJRoX/pseuds/MJRoX
Summary: Philip loves George (even if he Fucks up) until his dying days.





	1. Blown Away

"Ladies I'm looking for Mr. George Eackner." Philip Hamilton smiled giddily even saying the other males name even after he had betrayed him Philip still harbored the most intimate feelings for his old friend, now enemy. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't things just be simple? "He made a speech last week our fourth of July speaker. He disparaged my fathers legacy in front of a crowd. I can't have that I'm making my father proud." 

He held his breath waiting for the girls response, trying hard not to cough up the flowers that where sprouting up his throat. "I saw him just up Broadway a couple of blocks. He was going to see a play." The girl explained.  
Of course he was. George always had enjoyed the arts. "Well I'll go visit his box. Thank you." He turned and left, spitting up small pale blue petals along the way. 

"George! George!"  
"What is it Pip I'm trying to watch a show." He used the nickname he had given Philip all those years ago and the heat rose to his checks.  
"You should have watched your mouth before you talked about my father though!" He angrily exclaimed.  
"Philip its time for you to see the truth. I didn't say anything that wasn't true. Your fathers a scoundrel."  
Philip couldn't believe it. He wanted to push it aside, to leave, to stop himself before he did something rash but he didn't. "I'll see you on the dueling ground." He shot back, coughing up a solid flower. "Unless you want to step outside and go now?"  
"I know where to find you. I'm watching my show now."

Tears fell down Philip's face as he walked inside. His father was a dick sure, but a scoundrel? Hell no. He passed his mothers room, gazing at her small frame, curled up on the bed. "I'm home ma." He whispered a sad smile on his face. There was nothing he could do for her, no matter how much he wanted to try. He could only care, and carry his mothers burdens until she was ready to do so again. He had to see his father.  
"Pops, I need advice." He said as leaves and petals flew out of his mouth. "This is my first duel. They don't cover this subject in boarding school."

"Did your friends attempt to negotiate a peace?" His father demanded, rushing at him from across the room.  
"He refused to apologize," Philip answered "We had to let the peace take cease."  
"Where is the duel happening?" His pops asked him, pushing a stray hair out of his face  
"Across the river in New Jersey." Philip answered.  
"Everything's legal in New Jersey." They both sighed in usion.

"Alright, so this is what you're gonna do," he said, looking Philip in the eye. "Stand there like a man until Eacker is in front of you. When the time comes, fire your weapon in the air, this will put an end to the whole affair."  
"But what if he decides to shoot? Then I'm a goner." Philip asked, his eyes widening at the thought of him dying, the reality was too real when he was coughing up flowers left and right.  
"No, he'll follow suit if he's truly a man of honor. To take someone's life, that is something you can't shake." His pops climbed on to a chair to reach the top of a cabinet.  
"Philip, your mother can't take another heartbreak."  
"Father!" He whined, it was almost a protest.  
"Promise me." The older man badgered, as he poked the contents of the cabinet. "You don't want this young man's blood on your conscience."  
"Okay, I promise." Philip answered, knowing there was no point in protesting, turning his head to the side to cough up more petals.  
"Come back home when you're done." He said as he pulled a box down from the cabinet  
"Take my guns, be smart, make me proud, son." 

 

Philip took the guns and hid them underneath his coat. He ran through a list of facts about him in his head. It often helped calm him down. My name is Philip. I am a poet. My best friend was George Eackner. I love him. I'm going to die.  
"Mister Eacker," he pulled up a cold professional mask, he couldn't let his emotions get in the way of his job. "How was the rest of your show?"  
"Lets just go." He only sighed in response, wringing his hands like he always had when he was nervous. "Grab your pistol."  (confer with your men)  
"Confer with your men."  
"The duel will commence after we count to ten."

One. Philip took a small step away from George. He could feel the prickly leaves brush against the inside of his throat. 

Two. He took another step and coughed, silently sending a cloud of blood covered blue flowers onto the dirt beneath him. 

Three. He took another step. He thought of his father, his mother and his siblings. Would he return in time to say goodnight?

Four. He took another step, steadied his breathing and began to raise his gun in the air. 

Five. Yet another step. He thought of his friends Theodosia and Frances. They where waiting for him. He couldn't let them down. 

Six. Another step. He couldn't help but feel like something was wrong. 

Seven. He heard the sound of the shot after the bullet impaled itself in his side. A flower sprouted out of his wounds. He looked at George, he looked at the sky and he cried in pain as he fell backwards, crashing onto the ground.


	2. Stay Alive

"Philip." Philip looked up to his fathers face and smiled slightly when his pops took hi hand.   
"I did exactly as you said Pa. I held my head up high." He whispered, his voice hoarse.  
"I know." His pops began to rub circles into the back of his hand. "You did everything just right."   
Philip coughed, his chest tightening, his eyes widening in fright as several whole flowers landed in his lap, stem and all. "Even before we got to ten, I was aiming for the sky."  
"Shh," his pops looked like he was about to cry. "Just save your breath and stay alive." 

"No!" Philip's mother rushed in to the room. She was clearly close to breaking down.  
"Eliza..." His father looked relived and reached out to touch her hand, she only flinched away.  
"Is he breathing? Is he going to survive this? Who did this Alexander did you know?"  
"Mum..." Philip didn't want the last ring he saw to be his parents fighting. He wanted them to be happy. A big tear fell down his face. "Mum, I'm so sorry for forgetting what you taught me."  
"My son."  
"We played piano." He continued to whisper, holding the plants which threatened to burst out of his chest inside.   
"I taught you piano." 

"You would put your hands on mine," Philip was dying, he wouldn't make it and he knew that.  
"You changed the melody every time." His mum clearly still clung to the hope of his survival even though he had already given up.  
"I always changed the line."   
"I know."  
Philip tried to fill his lungs with air but could only cough up more plants. His eyes landed on one of the larger full flowers and he smiled. "Give this one to George."

"Ok." His mother didn't even question it and it became clear that she knew who had done it. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, Cinq six sept huit neuf." She bang to count.   
Philip pressed his hand into his mums and began to count along with her, changing the melody for old times sake. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, Cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf."  
"Good." His mothers praise made him feel warm. He plastered a small smile on his face. He knew he wouldn't live much longer.  
"Un deux trios..." He stopped, his eyes shut and a final breath left his lungs. This was it. A scream echoed through the room as a bush of blood covered forget-me-nots bloomed from his chest.

"Sept huit neuf. Sept huit..."


End file.
